Louisa Rawlings (21 page)

“Oh God,” he said and burst into laughter.

“Stop laughing,” she said, sobbing.

He shook his head. “What am I going to do with you? Don’t cry.”

“I’m not crying!” she wailed and fell into his arms. She stayed there, warmed and comforted by his strong embrace, until the fit of crying passed. Then she pulled away, sniffling, and wiped her eyes against her sleeve.

“Don’t use your shirt. Here.” He pulled out his handkerchief, mopping at her eyes and wiping her nose. He smiled ruefully. “My funny, foolish Marcy, with your cocked-hat schemes. You never needed them. All you have to do is look at a man”—he devoured her with his eyes—“and he can’t help falling in love with you.” He bent his head and kissed her softly.

“But you kept saying you didn’t want to marry. I didn’t think you cared about me.”

“
Cared
about you? My God. You make me laugh, you make me feel alive, like there’s nothing I can’t do when I’m with you.”

“Oh Drew…” She lay back on the sand and pulled him down to her, caressing the silken softness of the hair that curled at his neck.

“Marcy,” he whispered. He kissed her again, his soft tongue caressing the edge of her lips so she trembled at the sensation. He trailed kisses across her cheek, then gently turned her head with his hand so he could kiss her ear. She smiled to herself, remembering that first day when he had blown in her ear and ruined Uncle Jack’s hunting. It was nice to recall that he had wanted to kiss her ears even then. She closed her eyes, enjoying the feel of his mouth, then gasped aloud as a shiver ran through her body. He had plunged his tongue into her ear and was now moving it in small circles, tantalizing and teasing with every gentle stroke. She could feel her heart beating wildly and a strange tickling had begun in her throat.

“Oh, please…” she breathed and pushed him away. It was almost too agonizing to endure.

He laughed and sat up. “I always knew your ears were beautiful. I didn’t think they were that sensitive! I can’t imagine what the rest of you is like!”

She looked at him through half-closed eyes. How beautiful he was. His face in the firelight was strong and angular, elegant with its patrician nose and wide mouth. She had never wanted anyone or anything as much as she wanted him. She sat up in her turn and smiled, slowly unbuttoning her shirt. “Why don’t you find out?”

He watched her, his eyes smoldering, as she pulled the shirt free of her britches and tossed it aside. Then he reached out and stroked her bare shoulder. His hand was hot, burning her flesh. His long fingers traced a path from her shoulder across her collarbone to her other shoulder, and then down her arm till it reached her hand. He lifted her fingers to his lips and kissed them one by one. She trembled and quivered with each kiss and caress, her body on fire with a longing, a need she hardly understood. And each time he touched her, it made the longing harder to bear, more intense and painful, yet oddly seeming to bring her closer to the release of those feelings. With gentle hands she pushed him away and unfastened the two small buttons of her chemise, wriggling out of the top of it so it bunched around her waist.

“Wait,” he said. He rose and picked up a blanket, spreading it out on a smooth patch of sand farther away from the fire. He knelt to her and gathered her in his arms. She hadn’t realized how strong he was; she felt very small and fragile as he carried her to the blanket and laid her gently down. He pulled down his suspenders, then stripped off his shirt and undervest. His body was smooth and sleek, the skin like taut silk over surprisingly muscular arms and shoulders. The broad expanse of his chest was broken only by a large hairy patch in the middle, black and thick like the hair on his head. The thought of that chest pressing on her naked breasts gave Marcy a jolt down to her toes. She stretched out her arms to him, eager to feel his strong body on top of her own. Instead, he laughed softly and lay down beside her. “No,” he said. “I want to find out first how sensitive you are.” His hand reached out to caress one breast, cupping the firm orb in his palm while his thumb traced lazy circles around the nipple.

She sucked in her breath. “Dang you,” she choked, straining against him. “That drives me wild!”

He chuckled. “Good.” His hand moved to her other breast. “I always suspected you were a hot little creature. I intend to drive you wilder before I’m through!”

She twisted away from his hand. “You lop-eared devil! Maybe I won’t let you.”

He grinned. “You’re not going to have any say in the matter, you little tease! I reckon I owe you for that scene at the waterfall. You haven’t minded teasing me this past week. Now the devil is going to get his due.” Despite her struggling, he pinned her hands to her sides and bent his mouth to her breasts, kissing, nipping gently with strong teeth until she thought she would go mad.

She writhed in delicious torment. “Oh Drew…stop…” But of course she didn’t want him to stop. And of course he knew it. It seemed a wonderful extension of all the games and teasing of the past weeks. But this was a grown-up game. With the man she loved. And now he was loving her back, turning her insides to jelly with his mouth and hands. “Stop…” she breathed half-heartedly.

He released her hands and smiled at her. His eyes glowed by the light of the fire. “I haven’t even begun to explore all your sensitive spots. For example…” His hand slid down her belly and moved to the inner edge of her thigh, scratching tantalizingly at the soft juncture. Even through two layers of clothing, the sensation was exquisite. She shuddered.

“You varmint,” she gasped, “you timber wolf…” She reached for him and curled her fingers into his hair, tugging at his head until his face was poised above hers. She slid her hands about his shoulders and pulled him down to her. His chest was hot against her naked breasts, and when she moved beneath him she could feel the delicious tickle of his coarse hair on her flesh. He kissed her hard and she responded, stroking the firm skin of his back and shoulders, glorying in the feel of his muscles rippling just below the surface. But when he softened his kiss, his lips parting gently, she attacked, thrusting her tongue determinedly between his teeth, savoring the sweet moistness of his mouth. His body stiffened in surprise, and then he wrapped his arms about her, half lifting her as she lay, holding her tightly to his heaving chest while his mouth responded to hers. When at last their lips parted and he released her, she could see that he was trembling. He struggled to his knees, then stood up; he stood for a moment, breathing hard, before reaching down and pulling her to her feet. His torso was covered with a thin coat of sweat and his eyes glittered with passion. He raised one mocking eyebrow and smiled, his glance sweeping her body. “Now, you imp,” he growled, “how fast can you get out of those britches before I have to tear them off you?”

She giggled. They eyed each other warily, savoring the game. Her hands went to her belt at the same moment he began to unbutton his own trousers. They never took their eyes off each other as they pulled off trousers and underdrawers, then removed their boots and stockings. In a moment they were standing naked together, laughing like carefree children.

Drew stepped back to look at her. The grin faded from his face. “My God,” he whispered. “You’re glorious.” He knelt in front of her and put his hands on her hips, burying his face in her bosom.

Her trembling legs refused to support her for another moment. She pulled away from him, dropped to the blanket, and stretched out, waiting. She wasn’t sure what he would do next, but she trusted him. She loved him. When he pushed at her thighs to separate them, she responded willingly, feeling his hard shaft on her leg as he covered her body with his. He began to rock his hips gently, moving up and down so his member rubbed against the delicate softness of her. She felt a throbbing, a wild pulsing that seemed to begin where he touched her, radiating a warmth that surged through her whole body. She felt his hardness pressing, demanding entrance, though he seemed to hesitate.

“Yes, Drew. Please,” she murmured. “I’m not afraid.” He pushed gently, then thrust hard, sending wild sensations shooting through her. She had thought her night of clumsy groping with Zeb had prepared her for the feeling, but, dear God, she thought, it had been nothing like this! Zeb had merely touched her; Drew possessed her, filled her with his throbbing manhood, making her feel helpless and captured—and strangely triumphant all at the same time. She sighed and wrapped her arms tightly around him, enjoying the hot fullness of him within her. “Oh, Drew,” she sighed again, “that was wonderful.”

He laughed, his voice shaking oddly. “Now I’m
sure
you’re a virgin.” Her eyes blinked open in surprise to find him smiling down at her. “I’m not finished yet,” he explained gently.

“Are you teasing me again?”

“It seems to me I haven’t teased you enough! Now close your eyes like a good little girl.” He kissed her mouth and pressed her lids shut with tender fingers.

Obediently she relaxed beneath him. Whatever came next couldn’t be more wonderful than this feeling of being warmed and protected by him. His hips began to move slowly: His hard shaft was suddenly alive, thrusting, gliding, plunging deep so she moaned in pleasure, then withdrawing and waiting, barely touching her. Just when she thought she would scream in frustration, he would enter her again, sometimes with a maddening slowness that caused her to pound at his bare shoulders, sometimes with such force that she cried out for sheer joy.

She began to lose all sense of time; there was only his mouth, his hard body, his throbbing possession of her. His movements quickened. He grasped her shoulders in a grip that was almost painful, plunging into her again and again. She arched her back, meeting him thrust for thrust, then gasped aloud as a deep shudder ran through her body.

“Oh, God, Marcy!” he said, quivering violently. He thrust once more and collapsed against her.

They lay entwined for several moments. Then he raised his head and pushed the damp curls back from her forehead. He laughed softly. “Now I’m finished.”

She opened her eyes and looked at him. Beautiful Drew. He was still within her. She put her legs together, unwilling to release him. “That was wonderful,” she breathed.

“I was afraid I might hurt you.”

“No. Not at all.”

“Not many virgins are so lucky the first time.”

“Yes. I guess so.” She twitched uncomfortably beneath him.

“Now what? Do you want me to move?”

She put her arms tightly around him. “No!”

“Then what’s the matter? Come on, Marce. I know you well enough to know when something’s going on inside that funny little head of yours.”

She was glad he couldn’t see her blush in the fire’s glow. “It’s just that…dang it, Drew! I’m not sure I
was
a virgin!”

He shook his head. “I can’t really believe you’ve been with a man before. Not this way.”

“No. Never! But Zeb…he’s sort of been my friend in Long Lake, and…well, I let him touch me…once.”

He clucked his tongue. “Did you now? Wicked Marcy.”

“Don’t laugh. I think something must have happened, because…oh, I can’t tell you!”

“Did it hurt?” She shook her head. “Well,” he continued, “were you bleeding?”

“A little bit, I think.”

He stroked the side of her cheek. “Poor Marcy. But I think you can consider yourself still a virgin. At least until tonight. Did you ever tell anyone?”

“I was too embarrassed. But Uncle Jack found out about it anyway.”

“What happened to Zeb?”

“Uncle Jack tanned his hide.”

“And you got off scot-free, I suppose.”

She nodded, filled with guilt.

He grinned. “You’re a dangerous female to make love to!”

She gulped, filled with sudden anguish. He hadn’t realized how true his words were. Zeb had got a beating. Drew was going to be forced into marriage. She shivered beneath him. “I’m getting cold.”

He rolled off her. “I’ll bet the water is warm. Come on. Let’s go for a swim.” He jumped up and hauled her to her feet. They ran, hand in hand, to the dark water of the lake and waded in, enjoying the delicious warmth of the water as it closed around their bodies. They swam for a bit; then Drew stood up, the water reaching his shoulders, and pulled Marcy into his arms. “You know I never can get enough of kissing you,” he said hoarsely.

She went to him willingly, giving him her lips, but after a few minutes it was clear that kissing wasn’t the only thing he had in mind. She giggled, feeling the insistent hardness poking at her under the water. “If we could only make love in the water,” she said. “It would be so cozy.”

“Why not?” He pulled her into the shallows and urged her down into the water, then lay on top of her as the warm current lapped softly over their bodies. This time when he made love to her, it was with a tender gentleness that almost made her cry. She had never felt so happy in all her life. When his body had quieted, they still lay together beneath the softly rolling waves, until at last Drew roused himself. “Good grief,” he said. “If we fall asleep, we’ll drown like this. Still joined. And what would poor Mrs. Marshall think then?”

They laughed at the thought, clinging together while their bodies shook with merriment. Still laughing, they stood up and splashed out of the water. Drew fetched a towel from his valise and rubbed Marcy’s body briskly, then toweled himself dry while she quickly donned her clothes and pulled their blankets closer to the fire. When Drew was dressed again, they lay down side by side, pulling the blankets around them. Drew reached out his hand. Marcy slipped her fingers into his. He smiled tenderly.